Man's Best Friend
by slightlytookish
Summary: It’s a battle of wills when Remus and Padfoot spend an afternoon at the park.


A/N: This takes place after the boys have left Hogwarts. They're about 18 years old.

The park was crowded with Muggles. It was the first warm Saturday of spring, and though it had rained early that morning the clouds soon gave way to sunshine. By mid-afternoon the park was filled with families, with couples strolling along the pathways and groups of laughing children playing in the grass, and with two young wizards tracing a wandering, unhurried path through the trees.

Sirius yawned and stretched. "Nice day," he said as he watched an elderly woman feeding a flock of pigeons that were clustered around her bench.

"It is," Remus agreed, squinting up at the sunny, cloudless sky.

"…for a run," Sirius added with a grin. He ducked behind a tree.

"Sirius, don't – there are Muggles everywhere, someone might see." Remus glanced around furtively as Sirius disappeared and was replaced by Padfoot, who, without a backwards glance, immediately charged off in the direction of the pigeons, barking loudly.

"Daft mutt," Remus sighed, watching for a moment as Padfoot gleefully chased the pigeons across the grass. Then, with another quick look around to make sure that no Muggles were watching, he slipped off his watch and transfigured it into a collar and leash.

With a smug grin of his own, Remus pocketed his wand and made his way to where Padfoot was sniffing a few forgotten crusts of bread whilst the old woman scolded him for scaring away the pigeons.

"I'm terribly sorry," Remus said, offering her a reassuring smile. "He's a bit, ah, energetic." Padfoot had turned at the sound of Remus' voice, his tail wagging happily, but at the sight of the leash he growled and backed away.

"Now, now," Remus said, grabbing Padfoot by the scruff of his neck before he could escape. "You wouldn't want to frighten this nice lady, would you? _Sit_, Padfoot."

Padfoot sat and immediately sprang to his feet again. He barked indignantly, though whether it was because he was being given orders, or because he had actually obeyed them, Remus could not tell.

"I said, _sit down_," Remus said firmly. He stared down at Padfoot, looking stern, and Padfoot stared up at him, looking rebellious, before the dog finally relented and sank to the ground, never taking his grey, glaring eyes off Remus.

"Good dog," Remus said, making no effort to hide the amusement in his voice as he fastened the collar around the dog's neck.

Padfoot whimpered in response.

"Now," Remus said, leash in hand. "Where shall we go?"

At first Padfoot stubbornly refused to move. He sat there in the grass, whining piteously and looking dejected. Remus rolled his eyes. Even as a dog Sirius had a flair for the dramatic.

Suddenly Padfoot's ears perked up. Sniffing the air, he bounded to his feet and dragged Remus to the path.

"Calm down, Pads, what's got into you?" Remus said, unsuccessfully pulling at the leash to try and get Padfoot to slow. Barking joyously, Padfoot spurred Remus along until they came to a man selling ice cream from a cart. There he stopped and sat obediently, tongue lolling and tail wagging furiously as he looked hopefully between Remus and the cart.

The ice cream man chuckled at Padfoot's antics. "All they're missing is the voice, my gran used to say," he said. "I think your friend's trying to tell you that he's hungry."

A smile tugged at Remus' lips. "Very well," he said. Padfoot yipped happily. "Two please, one chocolate and one vanilla." He led Padfoot to a nearby empty bench, setting the vanilla ice cream on the ground and keeping the chocolate for himself.

Padfoot sniffed at the cup suspiciously and looked longingly at Remus' ice cream. Remus shook his head.

"Chocolate is bad for dogs, Padfoot. People will think I'm trying to poison you. Now eat up before it melts," he said. Padfoot huffed unhappily and, with one last yearning glance at the chocolate ice cream, turned to his own.

When they were finished, Remus collected the cups and threw them away in the nearest bin, leaving Padfoot lounging on the sunlit path with a quiet plea to "stay here and _please_ try to behave yourself." Remus returned and saw that they had a visitor, a little girl with bright pink bows tying back her plaits. She was crouched beside Padfoot, patting his fur, and glanced up when she saw Remus approach.

"Hullo," she said. "Your dog has funny eyes."

Remus smiled. "I suppose they are unusual," he said. Padfoot snuffled in annoyance. "For a dog," he added, sending him a warning look.

"I like them," the little girl replied, still stroking his fur. Padfoot wagged his tail, clearly enjoying the attention. "What's his name?"

"Padfoot."

"I like his name, too." The little girl smiled up at Remus. "May I play with him? I have a ball."

Padfoot leapt to his feet, his tail wagging eagerly. The girl stared at him in surprise.

"Your dog's really clever. I think he understood me!"

Remus laughed nervously. "Well, he knows a few words," he conceded. "But don't let that fool you. He's a bit of an idiot sometimes, actually."

Padfoot turned to Remus with narrowed eyes, growling.

The girl giggled. "I think he understood that too." She led them to another bench along the path where a bag and a pair of jackets, presumably belonging to her and another, had been left behind. She retrieved a small red ball from the bag and, with a twinge of apprehension, Remus knelt down to unclip Padfoot's leash.

"You'd better behave yourself," he hissed. "Don't wander off; I don't fancy chasing you all over the park. And for Merlin's sake don't chase any more pigeons. Or squirrels. One of these days you're going to catch something, and just think of the mess that'll make. All right, off you go. Your new friend is waiting."

Padfoot licked Remus' face and raced off, chasing after the girl and her ball. Remus sat on the bench and watched, pleased to see that Padfoot really was behaving himself as he ran and leapt about after the ball. With a smile Remus listened to Padfoot's joyful woofs and the girl's delighted laughter, and didn't notice that someone had sat down beside him until she spoke.

"Is that your dog?"

Remus turned to see a woman about his mother's age. She strongly resembled the little girl.

"Yes," Remus replied. "Is that your…"

"My daughter," she said. "She loves dogs. We had one for many years, but we had to put him down last April. Annie was devastated and I'm afraid she's tried to make friends with every dog she's met ever since. I hope she didn't bother you."

"Not at all," Remus said with a smile. "Padfoot and I enjoyed her company. And I assure you, he's perfectly safe. He's a large dog, but Padfoot loves children. He's always on his best behaviour around them."

The woman smiled kindly in return. "I'm Lucy," she said, offering her hand.

"Remus," he replied just as Annie ran over with Padfoot at her heels.

"Oh, he's lovely," Lucy said, patting his head. "What breed is he, exactly? I've never seen another like him." Padfoot wagged his tail, looking very pleased with Lucy's praise.

Remus shrugged helplessly. The only dogs he could identify were collies and poodles. "He's just a mutt, I think."

Padfoot seemed to deflate a bit at that, but was soon distracted by the attention Lucy and Annie bestowed upon him. The scratched behind his ears, they cuddled him, they raved about his eyes and his shiny fur and his friendly demeanour. It was all going very well until Lucy turned to Remus once more.

"You know," she said, "you really ought to get him fixed."

Padfoot, who had been happily rolling on the grass, froze.

"You can never be too careful," Lucy went on obliviously. "I could give you the name of our old veterinarian. Your dog's a lovely animal, of course, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to find a dozen more of him at your door one day." She went to pet Padfoot again but he snapped at her hand and stood, his hackles raised.

"Padfoot, stop that," Remus said, but Padfoot ignored him and continued to watch Lucy with bared teeth, growling all the while.

Meanwhile, Lucy had quickly snatched her hand away. "What's got into him?" she asked, glancing nervously at Remus.

"I'm very sorry, he's usually quite friendly and oh no, Padfoot, _don't_-" Remus watched in horror as Padfoot lifted his leg.

Lucy was thoroughly drenched. She shrieked and leapt to her feet, nearly slipping on the wet grass in her haste to get away. "What a disgraceful beast! He should be locked up! He should be _put down_!" She bellowed before turning her wrath on Remus. "And you! You ought to be ashamed of him!"

People stopped and stared at the spectacle. A group of teenagers on bikes laughed uproariously. Several old men looked on with disapproving frowns. Little Annie stared at her mother in shock. Padfoot licked his chops, looking rather pleased with himself.

Remus wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"I'm so sorry – let me just –" He stammered, hunting in his pockets for a handkerchief, but it was too late. Glaring at both Remus and Padfoot, Lucy snatched up her belongings from the bench and grabbed her daughter by the arm. "Come along, Annie," she said stiffly and marched the stunned, wide-eyed girl away.

Remus put his head in his hands. He was blushing so hard he thought his face would explode. The thought comforted him. If he had no face, maybe everyone would stop staring. Or at the very least they wouldn't remember him. "I have never been so humiliated in my entire life," he said, his voice muffled but oddly calm.

Padfoot crept over and put his head in Remus' lap.

"And it's all your fault," Remus informed him, still not looking up. He wished he could Apparate to somewhere far away. Antarctica, perhaps.

Padfoot whined.

"We can never come back to this park, you know."

Padfoot licked Remus' chin.

"If you think that's going to make amends…"

Padfoot whimpered. He nuzzled Remus' neck. He pressed his nose against Remus' hands until he uncovered his face. And then, much to his dismay, Remus found himself face to face with the pair of huge, sad eyes that awaited him, asking for forgiveness.

"Oh, all right," Remus said at last with an aggrieved sigh. "I forgive you. But we're going home right now." He clipped the leash to the collar and led Padfoot down the path.

Unusually subdued, the dog followed without complaint until they were under the shelter of the trees. Then he dug in his heels and refused to move, and when Remus glanced over he saw Sirius instead of Padfoot.

"Sorry," Sirius said.

"No, you're not," Remus replied. There was no anger in his voice; he was merely stating an obvious fact.

"Not that I did it, no," Sirius agreed readily. He was remarkably, roguishly unapologetic, just as Remus had expected. "But I am sorry I embarrassed you. I won't do it again, I promise." He smiled hesitantly, as if he expected a sudden outpouring of anger.

Remus smiled in return. "It was all very unnecessary. You should know I would never have you, er, _fixed_, Padfoot."

"I know," Sirius smirked. "But she deserved it, admit it. Meddlesome old cow."

Remus suppressed his smile and tried to look disapproving. "Come on," he said, and turned to go.

"Moony?"

"Yes?"

"Can you take off this leash now?"


End file.
